The Weight of a Name
by oooSilverWolfooo
Summary: [OC] What weight do you put in a name's meaning? Is it something that is supposed to describe you, who you're supposed to be, or who your parent wished you to be? Amynta, defender, is her name. It has been since she was born- at least, she was told it was.
1. Chapter 1

The Weight of a Name

Chapter 1

What weight do you put in a name's meaning? Is it something that is supposed to describe you, who you're supposed to be, or who your parent wished you to be?

Amynta, defender, is her name. It has been since she was born- at least she was told it was.

Defender. Is that what she is suppose to be? She doesn't feel like one. The only person she would say she is a defender of, is herself.

The five year old holds her breath, small feet moving over even concrete the slightest bit faster.

"Hey!" A voice shouts and she takes off without a look back. She knows the man has given chase to her, after all, she just stole right off his stand. "Hey, someone stop that little girl!"

A hand snags the back of her hood, choking her in its sudden restraint, and her dinner falls the gross, dirty ground of the city.

She screams and writhes in the large hands that now hold her, trying her best to wriggle free as the cart owner comes jogging up, hands on his knees panting.

Baby, she had only made it a few yards.

The fat hotdog vender straightens up with a scowl in place and opens his mouth, to chide her maybe, or threaten to call the police, or maybe just to huff and puff some more. He doesn't get that far though, as she kicks backwards, hitting her captor in the shin and effectively making him release her.

Before she could make another mad dash for safety, fatty's thick sausage fingers close tightly around her upper arm. She does the most logical thing and screams at the top of her lungs. "MOMMY! STRANGER, STRANGER!"

That gets some heads to turn, because even the five year old knows it's bad when a stranger grabs a child. Fatty jerks his hand away as if he'd been stung and several large dudes walk up to him in defense of the little girl.

However, she doesn't stay long enough to see the exchange as she takes off again down the dirt pack sidewalk, snatching up the fallen hotdog as she dodges through still standing New York traffic.

As she turns a corner, she slows to a walk, slightly out of breath.

She's used to running, running from bullies, running from angry store owners, and running from foster homes. This would be the second that she got the courage to escape from, her busted lip still throbbing with heat and dried blood.

She knows that an adult will eventually find her and take her back to the system, but for now she's free.

Not all her foster homes are bad, being so young gets a lot of people to want her, but that also means just as many people to send her back when something strange happened around her, or she unwittingly gets into trouble for just standing there.

The longest she's lasted in one house is six months, before a giant dog got in the house and rampaged around. She, of course, was blamed. No one believed her when she said it was as big as a car and turned into gold dust when the earth shook, collapsing the ceiling on it.

Then there were the bad ones that locked her in a tiny closet for being bad, which is torturous with her ADHD and now claustrophobia, or just used her as a little slave for cleaning, threatening her food if she didn't. And the really, really, bad ones that liked to hit her and throw her into walls so she hid up in her small room all day and night despite her restlessness and close, close, walls.

It was one of these that she ran away from for the first time, lasting about two weeks before a grown up caught her stealing from a convenient store and called the cops. She was back in the foster system with in four hours and a new home in five days.

The worst home, she'd have to say, was that one man who...touched her in places she didn't like. It made her feel dirty even though she didn't quite know why.

Stopping at a different hotdog stand, she drowns her meal in ketchup and wolfs it down, dripping red goop onto the ground and around her face and fingers.

She licks them clean before smearing the residue on her well worn jeans.

Not many people pay her any mind as she joins the mass of walking people, keeping close to the edges so as not to be overwhelmed by the swarm.

As night falls, she slips into an ally where she climbs a fire escape to settle in for rest. The city is still as bright as it is during the day, but the familiarity of it has her easily slipping into sleep.

...

Amynta lasted longer this time. A few months, two, maybe three. She was caught in some place they called North Carolina. It wasn't her fault she was caught; she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when a store got robbed and held hostage. Before she could slip out, a police officer had her wrist and she was taken to the police station because her parent was nowhere in sight.

Her social worked seemed genially relieved that she was found, but Minta didn't much trust adults now. They don't believe her when she tells them of the monsters that follow her, like the man with one eye or the sales woman who had green scaly skin and a reptilian tale hiding under her dress.

She thinks she's six now. It's hard to tell when she's living on the streets, but she's staying in North Carolina and going into first grade.

The teachers say that she has dyslexi-something and that it is perfectly normal. They say that she shouldn't be ashamed of it, and she isn't, but she thinks she's supposed to be because of the big deal that they're making of it.

They give her special classes and extra tutors, and she's living with a nice foster family, but she hates it.

They tell her to do this and don't do that and try harder, even though she's trying as hard as she can until her head throbs, and they tell her that she's rude, but she misses the freedom of going where she wants when she wants.

She doesn't like the bullying and old people looking down on her just because she's young, and she doesn't like the fake-ness of it all.

Cause she can tell that it's all fake. Even though she's very young and doesn't understand much, she understands that the smiles are fake and the scowls are real.

She understands that either her parents are dead, or don't want her, and she knows for certain that her foster families don't want her. That's why she doesn't trust grown ups, because they lie and call her a liar.

And it makes her so angry. To not be believed, to not be loved, to be trapped, to be looked down on. It makes her so angry that she can swear that the earth under her feet sympathizes with her, groaning and shaking under her feet.

She doesn't believe every person is bad though. She's not bad, at least she doesn't think she is, and she's sure that she can't be the only one.

There have to be others like her.

Others that see the monsters, others that aren't wanted, others that want to be wanted. Others that want to understand.

Because she wants to understand. Why she is alone. Why she's hurt all the time. Why no one wants her. Why her name means Defender. What she is supposed to be the defender of.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys, so this is my first full PJ story so I hope you like it. Let me know what you think. Review!**

 **~Silver**


	2. Chapter 2

The Weight of a Name

Chapter 2

Amynta wakes up the morning of her birthday with a gasp, sweat soaking through her blankets and plastering her black bangs to her face. She shakily wipes at the drool pooled on her cheek, glad that that particular dream seems to allude her memory.

While she had always had nightmares, these strangely realistic ones seem to be coming more frequently than before.

Her hand falls from her head, lying haplessly in her lap. It's then that she notices the package at her feet. Not too big and wrapped in a very pretty sea green that matches the color of her eyes perfectly- she stares at it stunned.

She got a gift?

Minta carefully pulls the paper off the box with trembling fingers, looking into it.

A single pinkish pearl attacked to a leather cord and a bronze colored knife with a blade as big as her forearm.

What a pretty blade! None of her guardians have ever allowed her to touch a knife, let alone have one. But who else could have left this at the end of her bed?

She looks around her provided room, bare of any personal possessions. She doesn't have many things that are truly her's except for a few clothes that can fit in a backpack, and a stuffed dolphin that she had stolen in her time on the street. The creature fascinated her and it was like she just had to have it, so she took it. She deserved something, didn't she, to call her own? And who was there to tell her no, that she couldn't have it, didn't deserve it?

But that is all of her belongings. She can't have many things with how often she moves from one foster home to another.

But these people gave her a gift. Maybe she had it wrong; maybe this home is different. Maybe they want her. They have been very kind since her arrival, and it's been a few months.

With this new hope stirring in her chest, she launches off the bed, tying the pearl around her neck in the single mirror in the room, and clutching her dagger close.

She exits her room at a quick pace on light feet in search of one of her guardians, Mrs. Ramon, to thank for her gifts.

She finds her around the corner, on a phone in the kitchen, and a foreign feeling twists her lips up in rare happiness.

"No, I can't do it anymore, the child is a menace!" She hisses.

She stumbles to a stop, twisting on the ball of her foot to hide behind the corner to eavesdrop.

The strange expression that had formed on her face had already dropped off to a forgotten memory.

"Strange things happen around the girl, and I just can't put up with it. I should have listened to the others...birthday?... Fine, pick her up tomorrow... I know and I do feel bad for her but-"

Amynta draws away from the wall with an angry glare towards the kitchen. She wipes furiously at the hot tears that refused to go away as she tiptoes back up the stairs to her beaten room.

She should have known that it wasn't true, that it wouldn't last, but she had fooled herself for a few stupid minutes. It won't happen again though, because she is a smart child, no matter what her peers say, and she learns from her mistakes.

She rips open the one drawer that hold all her things and shoves them deep into her book bag after emptying the contents onto the floor. Then she pulls her dolphin, which she named Trómos, from the bed and angrily stuffs him in as well. It's with finality that she zips it, throws the bag over her shoulder, and takes up her new knife. She flings the window open and fearlessly drops into the shrubs one story down.

There is a permanent indent from all the times that she had done this, but this would be the last.

Like the two times before, she runs away. Only this time, she swears that she won't ever go back. She has learned enough for this.

Avoid adults; don't let the police catch her; stay alive.

And it is easy enough. She's gotten a lot better at stealing and pick pocketing. If she walks closely to a family or not act like anything is wrong, no one even notices her.

She sets out along the little suburban streets at a quick pace, intent on never looking back. She will have her freedom back, and keep it.

...

She doesn't know where she is, she never does, but she has been walking for days.

The sun has risen, and fallen, and then risen again. Her shoulders sag tiredly under the light weight of her backpack, and her shoes make drag lines in the dirt.

Her stomach snarls for the hundredth time that hour, but she ate her last granola bar that morning and she's almost out of water.

The dirt road seems to go on forever, and she's only had to hide from a passing vehicle once since she's been on it. The sun is already casting it's last fading light over the rolling hills.

Minta's heart beats faster as she spots a small building off in the distance, and ducks under the barbed wire on the side of the road to go to it. Her eyes droop in tiredness and her muscles are sore and sticky with sweat. She just wants to rest, and then steel some food in the morning before continuing on.

The building she had first spotted is a barn. The house is several yards away with lights flicking off as she watches.

She ducks into the wooden building, glad for the shelter against the wind. Minta had found that it gets much colder out here at night, than it did in the city.

The sound of shuffling weight and deep breathing makes her pause, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darker light. Three massive animals blink at her from the stalls, and her mouth opens in awe.

"Oh," she breathes, and tiptoes closer to the beautiful creatures. "I've never seen horses in real life before."

A large head swings over the stall door, bumping the child hard enough to make her stumble.

She giggles, grabbing hold of the head to keep her from falling.

"You're so pretty," she tells the grey speckled one she pets, looking into the mare's large brown eyes.

 _Thank you, Princess!_ The mare startles her, making her mouth open in awe.

 _No fair, I'm pretty too! Princess, look at me, I'm pretty too!_ The brown male two down says, whinnying in complaint.

"But you are," Amynta says. "You all are beautiful."

 _Damn right I am,_ he snorts, pawing the ground.

The reddish mare next to him rear up and kick the wall separating them.

 _Briar, language!_ _She's just a child!_

The spotted grey one nudges Amynta again, drawing her sluggish attention.

 _Princes, why are you here? You are a far way from home._

"I don't have a home," she tells the kind horse. "I ran away."

 _Your poor thing_ , the red one murmurs. _You look so tired._

 _Come, Princes, into the stall to rest. It is going to be cold tonight._

"Thank you Miss..." She trails off.

 _Sugar. My name is Sugar, child._

"Thank you Sugar," she says, opening the stall door and slipping into the warm box.

The mare bends at her knees and lies down as the young girl settles into the pile of hay on the ground. The added heat of the large body is comfortable and easily lulls the girl, who had been so lonely on her travels, to sleep.

...

When she wakes up, she feels that something is off.

Amynta remembers the talking horses and falling asleep in the hay, and she is still very comfortable, but her hair is standing on end as she opens her eyes.

Soft whispers make it to her ears.

"-it's so strange. Sugar is normally skittish near strangers, but look at her."

"Where do you think she came from, Tom? You don't think she's hurt, do you?"

"I don't thinks so, she doesn't look it."

"Oh, you old man, put that gun away; you'll scare her if she sees it."

And that's when she opens her eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, so here it is. Please let me know what you think; if it's good or bad, or even if you want to guess what happens. I bet most of you already know her godly parent. I mean... come on... horses...**

 **~Silver**


	3. Chapter 3

The Weight of a Name

Chapter 3

She sits up fast and wildly looks around.

She gasps when she sees the old couple standing in the doorway of the stall, looking down at her in curiosity.

Sugar huffs, snorts, and lurches to her feet, careful not to step on her princess.

"Whoa, girl," the old man says, holding out his hands to calm her. "Easy."

Amynta leaps to her feet, snatching up her backpack and looking wildly around for an escape. She's trapped in the stall, and it makes panic quicken her heart.

"Whoa, easy now," the man says, now talking to her. "We won't hurt you."

"I'm Martha," the woman introduces, crouching down to be at a closer level to the seven year old. "And this old timer is my husband Tom. Would you like to come to the house and have some breakfast? Maybe wash up?"

She's about to flat out refuse when her stomach gives a painful snarl, and she clutches it feeling a little sick.

She really is hungry, so she shakily stands up, exhausted muscles protesting every movement, and takes the lady's outstretched hand.

"Bye, Sugar," she says a little sadly, petting her flank one last time as she passes.

Martha guides the young child up to her old house and into one of the bathrooms with a shower.

"You just take your time, and I'll just see if I can find any of my son's old clothes of when he was young. Breakfast will be ready when you get out."

"Ah, thank you," she stammers awkwardly, wondering when the nice lady is going to call someone to take her away. She'll just have to leave before then.

The table is silent as the three people serve themselves eggs and bacon.

The old couple watch as the child shovels food into her mouth faster than she could swallow.

Her hair is freshly damp from her shower, and she hasn't felt this clean in months. She even took extra time to just let the warm water poor over her, feeling rejuvenated.

"So," the man, Tom, starts, setting down his fork. "What's your name?"

Amynta debates with herself, slowing down and taking her time to swallow. She can't find the harm in telling them.

"Minta," she says, pushing her dripping bangs out of her eyes and finishing the last strips of her bacon.

"Where are your parents, Minta?" The woman asks concernedly. "Surely they'd be worried about you?"

"No, they're dead," she says, taking deep sips of her orange juice. She hadn't had any before and it's really good.

The couple exchange a look above the child's head without her noticing.

"Is there someone we can call?" The woman suggests, standing up to start heading to the landline.

Amynta's head whips up, almost sloshing juice down her front.

"No! They'll just take me back! I don't want to go back!"

Martha freezes and slowly sits back down.

"Well, where will you go?" She asks patiently.

"I don't know; somewhere." She crosses her arms with a practiced scowl. "I don't need anybody."

Tom and Martha exchange another glance.

"Well," Tom hesitates, easily following the thoughts of his wife of forty years. "You were pretty good with Sugar out in the barn... If you could help out around here, you can have our spare bedroom and three meals a day.

Amynta's face scrunched up in thought. They seemed like nice people, they were very kind so far, but she doesn't trust grownups all that much. They are liars- all of them.

But the deal they offered sounded good. It doesn't sound like a foster home at all. She's working for her stay and she can leave whenever she wants.

"Only if I can stay out in the barn," she bargains. She likes the horses.

"Alright," Martha agrees, suspecting that that's the best they'll get out of the girl if they don't want to push her to run.

They just need a little more time to figure out what to do with her; they can't just let her run off on her own. She can't be more than six or seven.

"Alright," Tom says, rising to his feet. "You start today, so come on and I'll show you how to feed the horses."

Amynta eagerly leaps to her feet, eyes wide in earnest.

Martha smiles softly as she starts to collect the plates from breakfast, watching her husband lead the young girl out the screen door.

"This is, Sugar, Ginger, and Briar," the old man introduces.

 _Hello, young Princess._

 _Princess!_

 _My Lady!_

"Hello," she greets them back, her lips curving up strangely again.

Tom waits a bit before gesturing further into the barn. "Come on; let me show you how to put their feed together."

The young girl dutifully follows to the storage room in the back.

...

Weeks pass with not so hard work for Amynta in the form of feeding the equines, putting them out to pasture, and at one point helping to patch a portion of fence. On her third day, Tom and Martha teach her to ride. On her fifth day, Martha takes her out to town to buy groceries and some clothes that better fit the child.

As the older couple and child fall into a routine, the days grow steadily colder. After two weeks, the old couple's son, Ben, visits for Thanksgiving and stays for a few days.

The man, that is really more of a boy, teaches her how to lasso and how to shoot the shotgun before he had to go, and she's never been so happy in her life.

A now familiar joyful laugh spills loosely from the child's lips, unconcerned that her cheeks are numb with cold. The chill wind rushes past her, tangling her hair, and illusioning her to the feeling of flying as the ground speeds and blurs beneath her.

"Faster, Briar, faster!" She cheers.

The strong young beast beneath her, pants, doing as commanded and pouring on speed. His muscles stretch and bunch and stretch again, gliding over the dead field and endless expanse of blue sky.

As the barn comes into view, she lets up on the reins, silently urging the horse into a walk, huffing and puffing and flank slick with sweat.

"That was amazing!" Amynta gasps, as if she were the one sprinting. "Briar, you're so fast!"

The colt puffs his chest proudly at the compliment.

 _I am aren't I Princess. And I can go for hours too- not like that old mare and nagging nanny._

As he catches his breath, he seems to stand taller and hold his head high.

Minta giggles again, running her fingers through his sweaty mane.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Mr. Tom should be coming in from town about now."

As they approach the old barn, something in Amynta seems to twitch, reflected in Briars own once proud stance turning skittish.

She dismounts in front of the doors and shuffles her feet uneasily. A glance at the house shows Tom's old truck parked in front of it.

The sound of shuffling feet and snorts reach her ears. Sugar and Ginger are uneasy too.

Resting the reins on the horn of the saddle, she wanders into the barn.

 _Princess..._ Ginger greats hesitantly skittering sideways in her stall.

"What is it?" She asks, fear spreading in her chest. "What's wrong?"

Sugar whinnies in distress kicking the back of her stall.

The door on the other side of the barn, creeks open, and Amynta's pulse skyrockets as long claws grip the doorframe.

A head seven feet tall, green and scaly, peeks around the dull wood with a grin full of fangs and eyes slit like a snake's.

Amynta screams, scrambling backwards and tripping over a feeding bucket she forgot to put away. The horses echo their own screams, eyes so wide the whites show. They rear and kick in fear, trapped by the stalls, stomping the ground as it shakes.

 _Run Princess!_ Sugar whinnies at the frozen child, and that seem to spur the girl into frenzied action.

She clambers ungracefully to her feet, unbolting Briar's empty stall door (she alternates which stall she sleeps in) to slip inside to hastily stuff her dolphin into her old backpack and zip it up.

"De~mi~god!" The monsters hisses excitedly.

Minta stops her movement, crouching behind the door holding her bag close.

"I can sssmell~you little godling."

She stiffens more and more until she is little more than a stone.

"Found youuu," a hiss sounds right by her ear, and she shrieks.

Grinning toothily, the monster grabs the child in his talonned hand and drags her out of the stall. She whimpers as her shin bangs hard against the door.

"Minta!" An old man's shout sounds very close. "Minta!"

A rocketing gunshot sounds very close, and the monster's body jerks. It hisses as it drops the girl several feet, and Minta is quick to scramble to her feet, staggering as far as possible from the snaky creature.

The monster quickly regains itself and strides forward again, reaching for the child once more.

Two more shots split the air, jerking the lanky body and making it stagger back a step, but it does little else to stop the creature.

"Run Minta!" Tom shouts, rushing past the girl in an attempt to stop the creature.

 _Princess!_ Sugar stomps, kicking hard at the stall door.

 _Run Lady Amynta!_

Sea green eyes stare wide as the creature sweeps its arm, swatting the old man as if he weighed nothing. There is a crack as Tom's head hits the corner of the wall, and he slumps, limp, to the floor with a red stain coloring his grey hair.

Amynta bolts.

She slings her bag over her shoulder and bursts from the barn with her heart in her throat, practically throwing herself onto Briar. The colt takes off almost before she can grip the reins.

A sob breaks past the child's lips, but she doesn't look back to the old man that had been so kind to her. She doesn't look back even as Briar jumps the barbed wire fence and the familiar property disappears behind her.

 _It's gonna be okay, Princess_ , the colt pants. _Tom is a strong geezer, he'll be okay._

Another sob shakes her shoulders.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys; please review and let me know what you think. Is it good? Bad? Any questions?**

 **~Silver**


	4. Chapter 4

The Weight of a Name

Chapter 4

 _Princess... hey Princess._

Amynta startles from her sleep with a gasp, righting herself from the slumped position she had fallen into in sleep.

Sniffing, she blearily wipes her cheek of a line of droop and drags her fingers over the dirt and tear tracks under her eyes.

"Briar?" She questions, glancing confusedly around. They are on the edge of a town, the sun had long since set, and she is still perched sorely in her saddle. Her shin throbs. "What?"

 _I-I'm sorry, Princess. I would like to go with you- but-_

Events flash in her mind, causing her eyes to burn once more.

"It's okay," she whispers, patting her young companion's neck before sliding off his sweat soaked back. "You have to go home."

She fixes her straps more firmly on her shoulders and turns to say goodbye to her friend with tears in her eyes.

 _Stay safe, Princess. Please._

"I will, Briar, I promise. Say goodbye to Sugar and Ginger for me. And please don't be too hard on them, or Tom."

 _You have my word._

With one last nod and a kiss on the nose, the young girl turns away and limps off without a glance back.

She trudges on tiredly through the dark town, shuffling out of sight of the street lights with a pain spidering through her chest. Every now and then she would wipe at the wetness on her cheeks. By the time she reached a larger city, the sun was rising a pale grey and no more tears fell.

She found shelter in a tree at the park, huddling close to the jacket Martha had bought her early on in her stay at the kind old couple's house.

...

The seven-year-old dances on the hood of the old car, banging her head to the faint music playing inside the stadium. It's a rock band that she had become very familiar with because of the old cassette tapes and player she had pickpocketed from a backpack. She had grown quite fond of the music and loud beat that often drowns out the world.

She jumps down from the car to the pavement below, doing an odd twirl and mimicking playing a guitar; her long wild hair whips around as she twirls and jumps and spins to the music from the live concert playing just inside the doors.

She bounds onto another car's hood, jumping in exhilaration, only to startle when it lets out a shrill alarm.

She falls from the vehicle, scrambling away from the flashing lights and loud noise that drowns out the sound of the band, and quickly slips away after scooping up her pack and cassette player with the headphones.

She's in New Jersey now; she saw the sign that said so an hour ago, even though she doesn't exactly know where that place is on the map.

Amynta just knows that it's a big city with quite a few people. She doesn't like the people all that much, with their rude words and weird accents. She decides to rest in an ally that doesn't have as much trash, or smell as much, as the others she's passed.

The graffiti on the walls interest the child, and she remembers her own drawings she used to do. She liked drawing. She might have to get a sketchbook to add to her meager things.

She falls asleep curled against the least smelly trashcan in the city, her breath puffing in a white cloud.

...

 _Images flash behind her eyelids. There is a crib, the scent of the ocean, dark sea green eyes, that smile as wide as his lips._

 _"Amynta," a voice whispers her name, and it's somehow familiar._

 _She sees crashing waves against a shore, then a calm oceanic tide, and it's like she can see a face in it smiling at her._

 _Then the man is in front of her, kneeling in sand that she can swear she feels under the pads of her feet and between her toes. She doesn't know where her boots could have gone._

 _"Amynta," he says, and it's the same voice that seem like she heard before. Even his face and eyes pull at the back of her mind in familiarity. "I know you have been hurt, and you are so strong. I'm so proud."_

"Why?" _She asks_. "Who are you?"

 _"I am you father, Amynta, and you are not as alone as you believe. You have a brother; I will send him to you, and you must trust him. It is okay to trust him."_

"Y-you're my dad?" _Minta asks, feeling a blinding hope and a deep pain in her chest_. "Where are you?"

 _His face turns sad. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. Stay strong, my daughter; help us on the way."_

"Dad?! Wait, don't go!" _She watches helplessly as the man returns to the ocean and is swallowed by the now raging waves. The wind whips at her face and she can taste sea salt on her tongue._ "Daddy!"

She jerks awake with a silent gasp and sits up fast. Minta's chest rises and falls quickly and she glances around at the faint grey light reaching into the ally.

She's not at the beach, even if she does still taste salt.

When she calms, she climbs to her feet and ducks out of the ally to continue on her mindless nomadic travels, shoving her headphones over her ears and hitting play on her cassette.

She heads in a random direction, keeping her eyes open for a store that might have art supplies. Getting a sketchbook is the only goal on her imaginary list.

...

"What are you drawing?"

She looks up from the bench she was perched on, to the stranger that just sat down beside her.

Amynta stares at him suspiciously, but she hasn't talked to anyone in so long, especially someone wanting to see what she was drawing, so she pulls off her headphones, hanging them around her neck.

"Can I see?" The middle-aged man asks, reaching for the book. She lets him pull it from her lead smudged fingers. "Oh wow, this is amazing!"

Minta blushes at the compliment, but silently revels in the attention.

He thumbs through a few more pages. "These are really good. What's you fascination with the ocean?"

Minta speaks up for the first time. "It's where my daddy is from."

The man looks around before looking back to the child.

"Where _is_ your daddy?"

"The ocean swallowed him."

The man nods. "What about your mommy? Is she around?"

Amynta hesitates, becoming suspicious again. Something about this man isn't right, she decides as the warning bells sound in her head.

She reaches for her drawing pad. "Yeah. I actually have to go; she's waiting for me."

Minta hops off the bench with her reclaimed book, shoving it into her backpack.

She wanders down the street, and when she glances back, the man is gone.

The child sighs in relief and faces back around.

A hands curls around her arm and yanks Amynta hard into the few foot gap between the storefronts, causing the girl to scream, which is muffled by a hand before it can pass her lips.

Her heart races as she struggles against her attacker, struggling to get to her knife tucked into her backpack.

She takes a deep muffled breath, and her head swims with a sweet smell before her vision goes dark.

...

Amynta wakes in dark, cold room. She can feel smooth wood under her body and, when she reaches out, walls on every side. The smell of sweat and smothething else- blood- register in her foggy mind, even as the fear is slow to come.

It does come though, in the form of a knot at the base of her throat, making it hard to swallow or breathe. Her claustrophobia of the closet she's in, makes her unable to think of anything but the walls that are closing in and crushing, crushing, crushing her chest! She can't breathe!

The door swings open, letting artificial light poor in, but Minta doesn't care right then; she can breathe now.

She looks up at her savior, and freezes. It's the man from the bench, the one who liked her drawings.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asks. She doesn't trust him. She'll just stay right there, thank you, in the closet with the closing walls, if he would just go away.

He doesn't. He reaches in and drags her out, kicking and screaming and biting at the man.

He finally flings her away, cursing as he shakes his hand. It splatters a few drops of blood to the wooden boards.

She hurriedly takes in the room, the blank walls, the window high above the ground, and the queen bed with strange yellowed stains on it. A large mirror covers the entire wall behind the bed. Looking into it, she doesn't recognize the little girl staring wide eyed back at her. The girl's lip it bleeding, with a colored bruise taking up the right side of her face, and her hair is more messy than she ever allowed it to get, even on the streets. But the eyes are sea green and familiar, even if they are dark and wide with fear- but something else is there too. Anger.

Amynta latches onto the emotion she used to know well. It's a much more pleasant one than fear; so much more than the fear that has been fogging her mind and leaving her paralyzed and unable to do anything.

She turns as the man advances on her again with a furious expression, her face flushing with matching anger as her gut wrenches, and she _screams_.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys, thanks to anyone that is reading; I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review of your thoughts! Some familiar characters will be making an appearance soon.**

 **~Silver**


	5. Chapter 5

The Weight of a Name

Chapter 5

The house shakes. The floorboards make waves under Minta's feet, throwing balance out of the equation for her and the man as he stumbles before careening headfirst into the wardrobe she was locked in. The ceiling fan above shudders and rattles before falling with a chunk of the ceiling to the ground, shattering into multiple parts.

The middle aged man's scream in cut short as the wardrobe falls over onto him, creating a red smear against the brown wood strewn with debris. The house itself seems to groan as the windowpane behind Amynta shatters and glass rains down around her as the floor buckles and caves.

The child's anger quickly snaps back to fear as she watches a beam fall toward her. She blacks out before it can hit.

...

Minta wakes up coughing on a cloud of white dust, and slowly sits up with a whimper of pain. Her muscles hurt, and her throat.

She is now on the first floor of the house she was in, along with the bed and ceiling fan. Plaster and beams make an oppstical course of escape.

She pauses to pick up her backpack peaking out of part of the ceiling, before stumbling out the door that was hanging from its hinges.

It's a little urban neighborhood she's in, but just numbly walks past the blaring car alarms and other houses damaged by the earthquake. The strange thing, though, is that the most damage seems to be to the house she just emerged from. The others only have minor damage.

She limps in a random direction, ignoring the setting sun and ache of her body. A deep cut under her eye eventually congeals and scabs.

Eventually, Amynta slips into a bathroom at the park, locks the door, and falls asleep on the cold, stinky, tile.

Moving in the morning is impossible. Every twitch sends pain to every part of her body, but she's hungry so she forces herself up with a whimper and slips out into the late morning.

Before she can make it out of the park, a loud snarl rips through the air.

Amynta turns with wide eyes to a monster she's seen before: a giant dog that has red glowing eyes and fur that drips shadows. It wrecked one of her foster parents' houses, and she was blamed for it.

Amynta remembers her knife quicker this time and fumbles with her backpack, never taking her eyes off the monster. There is no way for her outrun it.

The monster charges, and Minta's backpack drops from her cut fingers as they shake too much, and she falls backwards, arms outstretched to stop the beast's teeth.

It bursts into a cloud of gold dust that shower around her, adding to the white powder permanently ingrained in her clothes.

Amynta blinks up in surprise at a boy, just a teenager, standing above her where the dog just was, with a sword that glimmers bronze in the sun.

The young girl gapes at her savior even as the sword suddenly disappears and he stuffs what looks like a pen into his pocket.

"Hello. I guess you're the one I'm supposed to be looking for." He kneels in front of her, and Amynta's eyes catch sight of a strange beaded necklace that lays overtop his orange T-shirt, before she meets his eyes and she gasps.

They are a deep sea green framed by messy black hair. They are just like her's. Just like her fathers.

She watches as those familiar eyes widen as, they too, seem to recognize themselves in hers.

"Brother?" She breathes before she quickly scrambles to her feet and throws herself at the boy like she had wanted to hug her father.

She has never had family before.

"B-brother?" The boy stammers, and falls with the force of her inexperienced hug. The child grins up at the older boy, clutching him tight so he doesn't disappear into the ocean too.

"Um-" he clears his throat and his hand shoots up to rub the back of his neck. "Er, okay. My name is Percy; what's yours?"

"I'm Amynta!"

"It's very nice to meet you, Amynta. Er, can I stand up?"

"Oh!" The girl gasps, and quickly clambers to her feet. The boy, Percy, rocks back up easily so he is once again kneeled in front of her and places a hand on her shoulder.

At first, the girl stiffens, before she reminds herself that this is her brother and forces herself to relax.

"There is a safe place for people like us. Would you like to come with me?"

"Safe from the monsters?"

"Yes."

"You believe me?" Minta's eyes widen. "You see them too?"

"Yes, Amynta; I see them too. The monster that I just killed is called a hellhound. There are a lot of others and it's not safe for demigods to be alone. Will you come with me?"

Amynta doesn't hesitate to nod her head affirmatively. "Daddy told me to trust you. You're my brother; I trust you."

His eyes soften at his little sister, and stands up straight.

"Good. Lets go then, it's not good to sit in one place for long, and Annabeth is going to be angry that I left the campsite without telling her-" he startles when the seven year old latches onto his hand, but quickly grips it back with a small smile.

"We should get you cleaned up too; what happened to you, anyway?"

"A house fell on me," Minta comments absently, reveling in the feel of finding her real life brother.

Percy stares at the child incredulously, before shaking his head and continuing on. He doesn't lead her far, just a little ways past the tree line where a small fire is on its last ember, and a young man with a goatee sleeps next to it.

Amynta's eyes widen as the boy's shoe falls off, revealing hooves instead of feet. The part goat boy snorts, kicks, and then sits up to look wildly around.

Right then, a blond girl also appears from the trees, with an armload of vending machine chips.

Amynta shuffles nervously behind her brother, clutching onto his shirt as well so he won't wander off and leave her unprotected by the monster and his companion.

"Percy?" The blond girl question slowly. "Who is this?" She drops the snacks next to the fire and strides close enough to kneel down, much like Minta's brother had done. "Hello; are you okay?"

The young demigoddess presses closer to her only protection she's ever really had before.

Her protection shifts uneasily. "Annabeth, this is my little sister, Amynta. Say hello Amynta; this is Annabeth, my girlfriend." There is lilting excitement in his voice."

Annabeth's eyes widen, and she looks to the girl again, who always shuffles just out of her view.

"Whoa, wait, what?" The goat boy gasps, scrambling to his hooves. "Poseidon has another kid?"

"And this is Grover," her brother comments, throwing an affectionate look to his companions. "Grover is a satyr. Don't worry, they won't hurt you."

She trusts her brother, she does, but she doesn't trust these new persons. Regardless, she peeks her head around to look.

Annabeth offers a reassuring smile that the young demigoddess does not return.

"Are you hungry?" The blond offers, going to sit by the fire in hopes of drawing the seemingly shy girl out.

Amynta's stomach rumbles, but she doesn't say anything. The last time she spoke to a stranger, she was kidnapped. Though, she supposes, she's already going with this group of strangers wherever they are going.

Percy tugs her to sit by the dead fire. She sits next to him on the side farthest from anyone else.

Her brother hands her a bag of Cheese Puffs, which she wolfs down. Two more bags are devoured before she's full and settles against the older teen.

He absently starts picking drywall out of her hair.

"I think we should get her cleaned up with some new clothes before we start heading back to Camp. We will draw more attention if she travels like this."

"Okay," her brother agrees. "I saw a gym when we were walking yesterday; they might let us use the showers."

"Good. Then I can take Amynta while you and Grover go get her some new clothes-"

Minta's ears perk at the conversation, and her hand again grabs onto her brother's shirt.

"No!" She gasps. He can't let the blond girl take her! He wouldn't.

"Um," Percy hesitates, and looks to the girl for direction.

Annabeth frowns. "I guess you can take her to the gym and Grover and I can get her some clothes?"

"Er," he awkwardly looks down at the child clinging to him, and nods. "Sure."

"Alright, lets go then," she rises to her feet with a new mission in mind.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys; long time no see! Happy holidays and all that, and let me know what you think! I don't know when the next time I'll update will be, so just keep a look out.**

 **~Silver**


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